


Act of Contrition

by thesilenceinbetween



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilenceinbetween/pseuds/thesilenceinbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years ago, she gave her father’s name to her son in honor of the death that had bought her this life with her beloved baby boy.  As she watches the two Henrys together for the first time, she closes her eyes and waits, <i>hopes</i> for some sense of peace to wash over her, for some sign from above that Daddy forgives her and gives her his blessing, but there is nothing.  Regina and the two Henrys, the past and the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Act of Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** — Once Upon a Time is the property of ABC and Horowitz/Kitsis. I make no profit, monetary or otherwise, from this exercise in creativity.

The creak of her bedroom door tugs her back into consciousness, but it’s the soft thumps of tiny feet padding across her carpet that fully pull her out of sleep. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter against the early morning light, which is particularly intense given the time of year. It can’t be any later than seven, and Regina had so hoped to be able to sleep in and have a slow, easy Sunday morning.

The footsteps stop abruptly at her bedside. “What’s wrong, Henry?” she mumbles sleepily, her eyes still closed in the hope that whatever Henry wants can be solved from the warm, comfortable confines of her bed.

“I have a surprise for you, Mommy,” comes Henry’s excited, lisping voice, and before Regina can envision all sorts of nightmare scenarios — a fingerpainting all over the hallway walls, or a stray animal he’s brought in from the backyard — she feels something flat and gritty pressed against her hands. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Regina finally opens her eyes and examines what she eventually realizes is a card that is utterly _drowning_ in red glitter. A cascade of crimson sparkles rains down on her sheets as she stares at the painstakingly formed letters on the front of the card, blinking a few times in confusion before turning her gaze back to her beaming four-year-old.

“I know that you’re a mommy and not a daddy,” Henry says, his tiny, round face adorably serious, “but you’re such a good mommy that I don’t need a daddy, so I thought that you should get a Father’s Day card too.”

Regina tries her hardest to blink back the tears that are suddenly welling up in her eyes, but once she opens the card and finds the sweetest little stick figures that are clearly meant to represent herself (the taller one with a red circle that she’s pretty sure is supposed to be an apple in her hand) and Henry (the shorter one with a big smile on his face), it’s as if something inside of her tear ducts just breaks. She’s caught in a storm of fierce emotion, both good and bad, as tears roll down her cheeks like rivers, and she has to press her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. Henry’s eyes widen as he takes in his mother’s reaction, and he immediately scales the side of her bed.

“I’m sorry, Mommy!” He cuddles up against her chest, throwing his arms around her. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Regina nearly crushes Henry in an embrace in response, the card still clutched tight in her hand. There’s just no way to explain it to him. This card and having him in her arms are like the culmination of everything she’s ever wanted from life, but there’s a darkness, a mixture of sorrow and guilt and pain, that lurks beneath her happiness, trying to push its way to the surface. “I’m not crying because I’m sad, Henry,” she finally says, stroking his cheek with her thumb as she tries to swallow that darkness to the pit of her stomach and focus instead on this perfect little boy, her happy ending. “I’m crying because I love you, and because you’ve made me so unbelievably happy.”

Henry’s brow furrows as he stares up at his mother. “Mommy, that’s silly,” he declares. “You’re only supposed to cry when you’re sad, or hurt, and I promise to never hurt you or make you sad ever.”

Regina laughs to keep from bursting into tears again. “You know, you’re absolutely right, Henry.” She wipes at her cheeks and eyes before pressing a wet, exuberant kiss to her son’s forehead that makes him squeal a little bit and burrow closer to her body. She can feel the shape of him against her torso, and it never ceases to amaze her just how much he’s grown in the past four years. The first time she held him, he fit perfectly against her forearm. “Thanks to you, I’ll never need to cry ever again.”

For several minutes, they lie in her bed in an easy silence, burrowed together in a cocoon of blankets. Regina’s hand rests against Henry’s back, and she can feel it rise and fall in time with his inhales and exhales. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever witnessed, and in that brief moment, she is at peace.

“Mommy?” Henry’s voice comes out muffled against her chest. “Can we go on an adventure today?”

It comes to her in an instant, and Regina feels that darkness trying to penetrate the happiness again. “Of course,” she murmurs, stroking Henry’s back softly. “I have an idea.”

*

Sunlight scatters lightly across the stone interior as Regina pushes the heavy wooden door open. She watches Henry closely as he follows her inside, ready to catch him should he trip on his way up the steps. Craning his head in every direction to take in all of the artifacts around him, he eagerly slips his hand into his mother’s, and Regina holds on tight in response. It feels wrong to have her son here, in this building that is nothing but remnants of the old world, the world that she left behind for her happy ending here in this one with this precious child. She worries suddenly, irrationally, that he will breathe in the dust of this room and be tainted, corrupted by the sins and memories of her former life, and her fingers instinctively grasp his harder as emotion wells up in her chest.

“What is this place, Mommy?” Henry wrinkles his nose as he looks up at her, his innocent little face full of childish curiosity, untouched by adult fears and pain and understanding. “It’s kind of creepy in here.”

Regina swallows thickly around the large lump that has formed in her throat and shifts the bouquet of lilies that’s cradled in her other arm before responding. “This...” she stops, taking a deep breath. “This is where your grandfather is buried, Henry. My father.”

“Oh!” Henry takes a step toward the white coffin, his eyes wide with interest. Regina has told him very little about his grandparents, only that they are both dead; he doesn’t need to know anything more than that, let alone her role in their demise. Turning back towards his mother, Henry asks, “What was he like?”

Regina’s fist clenches so tightly around the base of the bouquet that she nearly snaps the stems in half. “He was...” she begins, her voice wavering as tears fill her eyes. She blinks rapidly several times, determined not to frighten her son by crying in front of him again. “He was very gentle. Very loyal. He loved horses—” Henry smiles at this, for he often delights in pretending that he is a valiant warrior, racing to defeat a villainous foe on his noble steed, “—and I... I’m very sorry that I couldn’t give you a father as wonderful as he was.”

Henry pulls back from the coffin and wraps his short arms around his mother’s legs. “I don’t need a daddy,” he says, his voice firm and insistent. “I have you. I don’t need anyone else.”

If she tries to speak, Regina knows that she’ll end up sobbing, so she just sinks to her knees and pulls Henry into her arms. She wants so badly to be all that he needs, but she fears more than anything that she’s not, that she never can be. The only example of motherhood she ever had was cold and cruel, the opposite of everything she wants to be for Henry, and yet a day does not go by that she does not long for her mother. It’s not right, the hold that this woman maintains on her heart even after everything that happened between them. Part of herself, Regina thinks, must be corrupted and wrong to still love that woman so much; she destroyed so many worlds to escape Cora’s legacy of evil, but it seems as if that evil is still with her, fused with her very essence, and Henry deserves so much better from a parent. If Daniel were here, he would succeed where Regina is bound to fail; he would teach Henry how to be fair and merciful and _good_.

Her father would have done the same.

After a long embrace, Henry extracts himself from his mother’s arms and takes the bouquet of white lilies from her. Still on her knees, Regina watches as Henry approaches the tomb with careful, reverent steps, stretches onto the tips of his toes, and places the flowers atop the white lid. Four years ago, she gave her father’s name to her son in honor of the death that had bought her this life with her beloved baby boy. As she watches the two Henrys together for the first time, she closes her eyes and waits, _hopes_ for some sense of peace to wash over her, for some sign from above that Daddy forgives her and gives her his blessing, but there is nothing.

If she had to do it again, she would take her father’s heart time after time, just for the indescribable joy of holding her son in her arms, but even still, she continues to crave her father’s absolution all the same. Despite the happiness and love that this world has to offer her, it holds no cure for the pain and guilt that sustain this terrible void inside of her.

“Mommy?” Henry’s voice wrenches her from her thoughts; she can tell by the look on his face that the mausoleum has already lost its hold on his attention span. “Can we please go exploring now?”

Regina smiles, hoping that Henry can’t tell how devoid of joy her expression is. “Give me a minute, okay sweetheart? You can go play outside by the steps — but no chasing or touching or approaching any animals.”

“Yes, Mommy.” Henry plants a wet, sloppy kiss on Regina’s cheek, then hurries outside into the sunshine and fresh air, where he belongs. Regina watches him leave, then turns back to look at her father’s tomb. She’s still on her knees and fighting back tears.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she murmurs, because there’s nothing else that she can say. She sacrificed his life for the life of a child, and now the guilt of what she’s done and the fear that she’s failing her son are eating her alive, feeding the void. “Daddy, _please_.”

But there is no answer, no sign. There is only the sound of her own breathing.


End file.
